Monday, September 15, 2008
  Can I whine just a sec?
Yesterday: Was pretty lazy until after lunch. But then worked on stuff for the house from 12-5 or so. Then went straight to work on schoolwork until 12:30 a.m. Got to sleep at 2 or so.

8:15 a.m.: Woke up, got dressed, fed the dogs, drove to the shelter, etc.
9:15 a.m.: Arrived to shelter.
9:15 a.m. - 12:30 p.m.: Walked dogs outside. It was 90 or so degrees and sunny. You walk, then you pick up their poop.
12:30 p.m. - 1:15 p.m.: Took pictures of dogs. This involves tying them to a tree and clapping and making funny noises and running in circles around them in hopes that they'll look at you. Sometimes it works.
1:15 - 1:30 p.m.: Drove home. Stopped at Post Office.
1:30 - 2:00 p.m.: Showered, scrubbing hard in an attempt to get the dog shelter smell of me. It didn't work.
2:00 - 3:00 p.m.: Upload pictures, process pictures, get dressed, put dogs away, laundry, go to school.
3:00 - 4:00 p.m.: Drive to school, run to class.
4:00 - 5:20 p.m.: Attend Introduction to English Studies (apparently I should've taken this the first semester; oops)
5:20 - 6:30 p.m.: Fight my way through horrible 10 mph traffic on 95 to a place in Tamarac that was only supposed to take a half-hour to get to, to meet a guy from Craigslist to buy a micro lens cheap.
6:30 - 7:00 p.m.: Wait for guy. In a parking lot. With Sebastian. He pooped, and I had to pick up my 50th poop of the day. Yipee.
7:00 - 7:30 p.m.: Drive home.
7:30 - now: Ate dinner (bless Chris's heart; it was ready by the time I got home), read the rest of the FORTY PAGE POEM (that is in CRAZY OLD ENGLISH where everything is spelled funny and the guy even spells the SAME WORDS differently over the course of two lines; I counted three spellings for soccour, or souccor, or whatever it is; I only know the word's meaning from the Spanish socorro) I have to read for tomorrow, and dozed off. Realized I really have to do an assignment for tomorrow morning, so now it's 10 and I'm back at the computer.

Oh, and tomorrow? The day starts at 6:30 a.m. I'm in school by 8. I break at 11 in order to eat lunch and work out. Class lasts until 6:30 p.m., so I won't get home until after 7. At which point I have 40 pages of difficult literary criticism reading to do for Wednesday and lots more homework for Thursday.

I'm just TIRED. Tired. And I have SO MUCH TO DO. Living through this semester is going to be a feat. I had five classes in the spring too, but they weren't so work intensive. For example, the estimate the history teacher gives on how much time we should devote to reading each week? Seven hours. And, you know, normally I could skip it, but I do not in fact know, for example, when the House of Bourbon ruled in France as opposed to the House of Valois. So I have to learn it. Test next week!

And guess what? I am now at the level of English classes where you cannot turn to the Internet (to Sparknotes or Cliffs Notes or reading guides posted by friendly professors) for help. Joy. I mean, jesus, this 40-page poem? It is about the DEATH OF A SPARROW. Yes, a bird. The first half or so I understand. The first half.
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I'm Stacey. I'm a 31(!)-year-old Wisconsin girl living in sunny South Florida. The highlights in my life are my lovely boyfriend, my aloof cats, my adorable/adoring stepdogs, my two lumbering tortoises, select family members, being outside, being underwater, taking pictures, yadda yadda. Stay tuned for lots of babbling!

Location: Fort Lauderdale, Florida, United States


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Making a difference

A small boy lived by the ocean. He loved the creatures of the sea, especially the starfish, and he spent much of his time exploring the seashore.

One day the boy learned there would be a minus tide that would leave the starfish stranded on the sand.

When the tide went out, he went down to the beach, began picking up the stranded starfish, and tossing them back into the ocean.

An elderly man who lived next door came down to the beach to see what the boy was doing. Seeing the man's quizzical expression, the boy paused as he approached. "I'm saving the starfish!" the boy proudly declared.

When the neighbor saw all of the stranded starfish he shook his head and said: "I'm sorry to disappoint you, young man, but if you look down the beach, there are stranded starfish as far as the eye can see. And if you look up the beach the other way, it's the same. One little boy like you isn't going to make much of a difference."

The boy thought about this for a moment. Then he reached his small hand down to the sand, picked up another starfish, tossed it out into the ocean, and said: "Well, I sure made a difference for that one!"

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